Hubun
by Generouslyinnercheesecake
Summary: Whenever Damian is around Jon, it feels as though something terrifying, yet tantalizing lingers to the back of his mind. / Continuation/goes along with Enucleation!/contains Jon Kent/Damian Wayne/autistic Damian Wayne


DISCLAIMER: All public characters, settings, etc. are not mine and are property of DC comics. I am not making money off of this work. All my original characters/plot are property of me, the author, and I am not associated with DC comics in any way, shape, or form

A/N: Hello, lovelies! I'm back with yet another story! I know I've been gone for a while, and I think I owe you all an explanation: I've been having a mental health episode, went on a trip, got sick, then got caught up with my schoolwork. During all of that, I had so many ideas that I was able to write, but didn't have enough confidence to actually post. This is one of those. So, thank you all for being incredibly patient. I love and appreciate you all! Please enjoy the one shot.

——-

When Damian first met Jon, he was instantly put-off by the other boy. He was too happy, _too __much_. He spoke loudly, he had exaggerated rhetoric and body language. His demeanor was a complete juxtaposition to Damian's own, and Damian couldn't help but feel intimidated by how confidently Jon upheld himself.

However, that same confidence somewhat intrigued Damian. How Jon upheld himself was so similar to Dick, but more open, genuine. Jon was unashamed of being deemed as the many stereotypes that came along with his life, instead following his own path. It was foreign to Damian—that someone was that sure of themselves and yet not assertive to the point of dominance in a social interaction. Jon was compassionate to a fault, so the most control Jon would take during a conversation was to change the actual subject of it. Other times, the younger boy would take control of a conversation when he knew Damian was not feeling right that day. He was simply too compassionate, sometimes.

It made Damian feel a new sensation when he took note of Jon's gentle behaviors and kind words.

"Dami," Jon dragged out the horrible nickname, "let's do something! The manor is so quiet," Jon said, bored.

Damian felt something in his stomach well up, but didn't exactly know what it was. _Perhaps I had too heavy of a lunch? _However, Alfred had made simple peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the two boys. Damian was not allergic to either peanut butter nor the grape jelly, right?

Jon had come over due to his father's need for assistance on a mission. Damian wanted to know about the case, but Bruce had forced him to go upstairs and spend some time with, 'a boy his age'.

Damian put down his book, his expression unreadable to even Jon. "I am not aware of what we can do here," Damian ground out.

Jon furrowed his brows. Classic sign of an upcoming lecture. "Why are you always so grumpy, Dami? Hm?" Jon asked bluntly.

Damian frowned further. "Childhood trauma," he blurted out, shocking not only Jon but also himself.

Jon doesn't deserve to know his personal secrets. They had only known one another for about 3 months, and that was not nearly enough time to open up to the younger boy.

Jon tilted his head. "Haven't you always lived with Batman?" He inquired, then a shocked expression overtook his face. "Does he hurt you, Dami?" Jon whispered, and Damian was once again mulling over the complications of inflection in everyday conversations.

Damian scoffed arrogantly. "Of course not, Kent," he replied, then picked up his book again.

It was a beautiful five seconds of silence before Jon questioned, "Are you sure, Damian?"

Damian inhaled and exhaled, using the same technique his therapist had given him in order to calm himself during vexing social interactions. "Yes, corn-cob." The nickname always reminded Damian of Jon, and he could feel the same sensation well up in his stomach.

Drake had called Conner Kent that, once.

Jon made a face. "I'm not a _corn-cob_, Dami," he protested. Though Damian knew it was all for show. Damian smirked, glad he could control the conversation and feeling the other boy's petulance endearing, almost.

Their interactions were like this—witty, back-and-forth banter until Damian completely ignored Jon, causing the younger boy to leave. Damian liked that. Liked that he could somehow feel on the same level of Jon despite their many differences of personality and status. Began to like Jon.

Jon communicated when he was happy, tired, stressed, or sad, and Damian liked that. The concept that Jon could give genuine answers, so that Damian wouldn't be completely lost during the entire interaction. Jon, unlike other neurotypical people, didn't need someone to pull authentic reactions out of him.

Jon told him how he was, whenever he saw him. Of course, Damian never actually asked how he was—to Damian it was completely useless. The first few times Jon had asked this, Damian had actually left the room instead of answering the boy's outwardly simple question.

Some days even simple questions made his anxiety spike.

However, the boy, despite Damian's insistence to answering the question, asked how Damian was doing and actually listened to Damian's answers, eliciting more and more genuine answers as they continued meeting with one another. However, Damian always felt some sort of dense feeling push down onto his chest whenever Jon asked this. What could Damian possibly answer with?

Sometimes Damian still followed Mother's guidelines.

It was, normally, completely unintentional, but Damian could observe the body-language of his Father, Grayson, and Pennyworth whenever he did so. They were disappointed. Damian knew he would never be able to fully satisfy the expectations from his family, even if they weren't Mother.

With Jon, however, Damian was able to give him what he wanted. Jon was simple. He was a _farm boy_— one of most simple, American occupations Damian could fathom. Damian had no Father, Mother, Grayson, or Pennyworth hanging over his head when he interacted with _corn-cob_.

Eventually, Jon did leave the room in search for a more 'fun' place in the manor. Damian felt a small smile lift the corner of his lips, then continued reading.

* * *

The next time they saw one another, the press had exposed Damian's diagnoses.

Damian, truly, hadn't been angry over the whole concept, but when reporters began crowding their home Damian felt that level of security brake. Both Tim and Dick had noticed, and applied themselves to track down who exposed it. A doctor from Dinah's office had been the one.

What Damian couldn't understand was why Father, Grayson, and the rest of the family were so concerned with it being exposed, though. For Damian, it had almost seemed as though they were more concerned with Damian's disorders being exposed, not the barrier of safety collapsing.

Mr. Kent-no, Clark had, out of sympathy, given both Damian and his Father an interview about the subject, prompting many reporters to retract their earlier, judgmental statements. Damian, of course, couldn't find himself to care for their words. However, it was the reporters' invasion of his privacy that made him feel trapped.

Jon, after the interview was done, had asked how he felt. Not the usual: "How was your day?" But the genuine yet slow understanding that Damian despised those types of niceties. To ask Damian how he felt opened a whole flood of answers, instead of the usual anxiety of what to say in everyday conversation.

Jon, throughout their whole companionship, began to understand Damian's needs and wants. How he liked his breakfast, how he wanted to fight, what he needed other people to say. The younger boy was perceptive enough to comprehend that Damian was no normal boy, but couldn't find it within himself to care much. Jon had learned the complexities of Damian's social needs in such a short amount of time, and it was evident that Damian's family was impressed by this. Jon could tell they usually struggled with things regarding daily interaction with Damian.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jon asked Damian, his tone hesitant. Though Jon understood Damian quite well, he still had moments of which questions were crossing the boundary of privacy.

Damian avoided his eyes. Jon paused as he gazed at Damian's green ones. They were a dark, forest green that, when they even found Jon's own eyes, blew the younger boy away by the intensity.

"No, Kent," Damian replied, pulling Jon out of his headspace.

Jon nodded. "You can tell me anything, Damian," he told Damian. Said boy made full eye contact with Jon, and Jon felt butterflies fill his stomach. "I'm your friend," Jon said absentmindedly, a lazy, almost dopey smile pulling at his lips.

Damian's eyebrows furrowed as he shifted his eyes away from Jon's face to his chest. "You are not my friend, Kent," he protested, and Jon's smile faltered.

"I consider you my friend," Jon whispered, as though it were a secret. Damian felt ridiculous, so he left the room without looking back. Jon bit his lip, feeling a strange light-headedness overcome him.

He had only felt this with a couple people in his short life. People whom he liked.

And suddenly Jon felt sick, rather then fondly strange.

* * *

"Father," Damian said during breakfast, grabbing Bruce's attention at the table. Said father quietly put down his newspaper. "What does love feel like?" Damian asked, then took a bit of his omelet.

Bruce faltered. "It's when you..." Bruce grimaced, "care about someone very deeply." How could one describe love, anyway? It was complex, something even Bruce Wayne could see in his rare experience with it.

Damian didn't stop eating, although Bruce knew Damian could hear him. "What about romantic love? Is it the same concept?" Damian inquired.

Bruce blinked. _Does Damian...have a crush__?_ Bruce felt an unintentional smirk pull at his lips, but quickly crushed it down in favor of answering his son's question. "Romantic love is similar to other kinds, but it's characterized by the want to constantly be in that person's presence. Familial love usually doesn't have that same characteristic," Bruce explained clinically.

Damian furrowed his brows in thought. So did this mean that Damian didn't like Jon—just because of his want to leave during vexing interactions? Damian and Jon's relationship had, ever since the two's friendship began five months ago, developed to something Damian looked forward to. The funny feeling in his stomach, the sweaty palms, and overall carefree attitude Damian carried while conversing with Jon had all pointed to him having affections for the younger boy.

Bruce started to take a sip of his coffee when Damian said, "I do not feel the need to be in his presence constantly."

Bruce almost choked on his coffee.

Not only did Damian admit he likes someone, but he just said it was a boy. A boy!_ Is it Colin? Jon? _Bruce's racing mind halted as he remembered Damian's recent odd behavior with the younger boy. _Jon. It's Jon_. However, Bruce could never know with his youngest son.

Bruce hesitated, "Sometimes people don't want to be in their...partner's presence all the time. They may enjoy spending short periods of time with them." Bruce wanted to cringe at his own words.

Damian slowly nodded, satisfied with his father's answer. "Very well."

Bruce pursed his lips, then took another heavy gulp of his coffee. "Do you-" Bruce stopped himself, then hesitantly continued, "do you like a boy, Damian?"

Damian picked at his food—something he very rarely did unless he was in intense thought, most likely about the normalities of society. Finally, the boy asked, in a curious voice, "Would you disown me if I did?"

Bruce's back straightened.

He could never do that to his son. He would never do that to his son.

The boy held affection for someone of the same gender and he rarely held any affections for anyone his age. It was only natural for him to start to develop romantic relationships, but Bruce didn't know it would be so soon after treatment. It was startling. To see Damian slightly love struck, a label that was completely foreign to the boy. However, Damian deserves the right to have a childhood crush, despite their gender. Despite his diagnoses.

"No, Damian," Bruce affirmed. "I would never."

Damian took a deep breath, then went back to eating his breakfast. Bruce lowered his eyes.

* * *

Bruce and Clark stood in front of the computer, waiting for something to process, when Clark suddenly said, "Jon recently came out as bisexual to me and Lois." He supposed those things should be talked about without the consent of the actual person who came out, but Clark knew he could trust Bruce. Besides, Dick had come out as bisexual to Bruce, and the man treated him as his partner/mentor, still. "He was...very nervous. But Lois and I don't care. "_Obviously_," Clark finished, looking uncomfortable.

Bruce narrowed his eyes, then hummed, as though he were processing the information.

"Who?"

Clark made a face. "Excuse me?"

Bruce sat back down in his chair, looking tired. "Who does he like?" Bruce questioned.

Clark paused. He, truly, hadn't known whom his son had a crush on, but had a sneaking suspicion.

"I...don't know," Clark said slowly.

Bruce slowly craned his head to look Clark directly in his eyes, challenging the other man. "Is that right, Clark?"

_Please tell me it's... _Bruce thought.

Clark huffed through his nose. "He was really nervous, I could tell," he diverted, then remembered stupidly he had already mentioned that.

Bruce looked as though he was hiding a smirk. "You are horrible at attempting to pivot the conversation."

Clark sighed, then muttered, "Damian."

Bruce's lips bloomed into a smile—a genuine, victorious smile. It took Clark aback.

"Perfect," Bruce muttered under his breath. Clark furrowed his brows.

"Excuse me?"

Bruce blinked slowly, then craned his head to look at Clark once again. "Damian likes Jon," he said simply.

Clark blinked. "What."

"Damian has a crush on your son."

Clark's mouth opened enough to trap flies. "Are you pulling my leg?" He asked, peering around the cave. It only made Bruce's smirk widen. "Oh my _gosh_. You're not." Clark was genuinely surprised. "How is that-"

"It's not impossible for Aspies to have crushes," Bruce explained, face now blank. "Jon makes him feel comfortable," Bruce finished, shrugging his shoulders casually.

Clark's eyes widened. Bruce liked this. "I don't know, Bruce," Clark grimaced. "They're young-"

Bruce chuckled. Actually chuckled. It made Clark regret ever meeting the man, really.

"Of course you think that, Farmboy."

Clark pouted, which only made Bruce chuckle harder.

"They're three years apart!" Clark exclaimed.

Bruce paused, the smirk still ghosting over his expression. "That's true," he admitted, surprising Clark. "However," Clark groaned under his breath, "they don't have to date _now_."

Clark facepalmed.

* * *

Jon came over for his weekly play date (which was simply their fathers discussing a case), which excited Damian. The 14-year-old had, without his intention, found solace in Jon. Their friendship had started only seven months ago, but it felt developed in a way that Damian's other friendships hadn't evolved.

Damian felt socially intelligent when he was around Jon.

Jon had always conversed with Damian as though he were any other child. However, when word came out to Colin and Maps about his diagnoses, they had treated him differently. It was completely unintentional, Grayson had said, but Damian still despised that new treatment.

Jon was different.

He never talked slowly with him like the adults at the galas. He was never hesitant to give affection, like Grayson. He never distanced himself from talking to the boy, like Father.

He just accepted.

He accepted that Damian was never going to be normal, but didn't treat him as though he were not human.

Don't get Damian wrong, he had accepted his diagnoses long ago and didn't want to change them for the world, but having someone treat him as though those diagnoses didn't matter felt...comforting.

"Hi, Dami!" Jon greeted him, oh-so-loud, but in Jon's special way.

Damian had to stop himself from smiling. The nickname was still horrid, but Damian had learned to appreciate it nonetheless. "Jonathan," Damian greeted. In his own way.

Jon grinned, the expression open and so typical of him. "We should go outside today!" Jon suggested-no, practically demanded, and it made Damian's heart swell. Damian nodded silently, then Jon began dragging him by his wrist to the vast backyard. Titus' paws pattered behind them, the sound comforting to Damian.

Titus had been specially trained as a comfort animal for Damian, and the boy always felt relaxed by the texture of his fur or the soft patter of his paws hitting the hardwood floor. It was constant reminder that, despite Damian's social issues, someone was always there for him no matter what. Whether that be a human or not.

Although the feeling of Jon pulling his wrist felt too familiar, and Damian made a short hand motion to get Titus to catch up. As soon as Titus caught up, Damian dug his other hand in the dark fur.

Finally, Jon released his wrist when they reached the backyard. Titus stayed by Damian's side, sitting down obediently when his owner stopped walking. Damian gave a small smile to Titus, who panted happily. Jon giggled beside Damian. "He's a really good dog, huh?"

Damian scratched at Titus' head. "Yes. He is, Kent," he replied, the small smile still lifting the corners of his lips.

Jon hesitated, then Damian ordered, "Say what you wish, corn-cob."

Jon rolled his eyes fondly, then asked, "Can I pet him?"

Damian clenched his jaw, then answered, "Yes."

Jon immediately began petting Titus, eliciting Damian's chest to feel funny. Jon, after a minute or so of petting the dog, looked back up at Damian, who was staring at them both intensely. "What's wrong?" Jon asked, concerned. "Did I pet him wrong? I mean, I don't think you can pet a dog wrong, but-"

"Nothing, Kent. Absolutely nothing," Damian interrupted him, his lie obvious. Although Jon didn't comment on it. There was no point when it came to Damian Wayne. "To think you can pet an animal wrong is absurd," Damian added, avoiding Jon's eyes.

Jon's lips upturned once again, then he turned his attention back to Damian, his eyes bright and so, _so _open.

It made Damian's chest hurt again.

Suddenly, Jon's eyebrows lifted up to his forehead animatedly, and that was an indicator to Damian that he was excited. "Do you have a treehouse?" Jon asked excitedly.

Damian was confused. _Why would Jon be excited about the prospect of a __treehouse __?_ "No."

Jon's lips pursed, then his face lit up again. Damian looked down at Titus, attempting to telepathically ask him why he was suddenly feeling so much around the other boy.

"We should go climb some trees!" Jon said happily. "Don't you have a whole forest back here?"

Damian nodded robotically. Jon seemed confused at the lack of an actual reply, but Damian needed to take control of his emotions, right now. Without control, what does he have? Jon shook his head, as if he were shaking off Damian's weirdness (more so than usual), and began running into the forest. Damian clenched his jaw, blinked, then followed in a more mild manner, Titus trailing behind him.

* * *

They had managed to make it up pretty high. Damian was reminded of the tightrope, then looked to his left. Jon sat there, a grin on his face and presence reassuring. It made Damian feel warm. And grounded, somehow. Titus sat at the bottom of the tree; Damian knew he would start barking if his father or Pennyworth were to begin calling for them.

Jon bit his lip, and Damian was certain he was hesitating to ask a hard question. Jon was consistent like that. Damian knew all his mannerisms to a T at this point, and he liked that. Liked Jon. Liked how he never betrayed his body language and was always candid with him.

"Do you like me, Damian?"

_Huh? _

Damian stilled, taken aback by the question, and clenched his jaw. Jon bit his lip again, nervous over the boy's answer.

"I..." Damian blinked rapidly, suddenly feeling as though the world was closing in on him around him, but not knowing why. "I am not entirely sure what you are asking," Damian admitted.

Jon took in a sharp breath. "I-Well I was wondering if you...liked being around me?" Jon inquired nervously.

Damian's lips parted, wondering what Jon wanted him to say. Then remembered: he owed nothing to no one. Only to the people he loved. Did he love Jon? Absolutely not. That cannot be possible. He's not capable of love.

But the feeling. Of his pounding chest. Of his sweaty palms. Of his funny feeling in his stomach. Of his openness around Jon and very few others.

"That is a foolish inquiry, corn-cob."

Jon's expression morphed into a surprised one, then his lips curved into a familiar smile. And Damian felt his muscles ease greatly.

_Perhaps this is the feeling of love._

———

Did you like it?? Again, criticism is always appreciated. I am not a psychologist, so if you would like to leave something about it not being accurate or even a personal anecdote, that would be freaking amazing. I'm always willing to be educated.

Thank you so, so much! All love!


End file.
